The Courtship of Aizen Sousuke
by Q.Sekhmet
Summary: He'd exacted this murderous algorithm down to the very disposal. Life was not a series of mistakes as the neanderthals would so arrogantly presume. It was simply a series of highly erroneous misinterpretations. But he? He was a deity of delivery. The perfect being. An apex predator.
1. 1

_**The Courtship of Aizen Sousuke**_

[]

_Holy water cannot help you now__  
See I've come to burn your kingdom down  
And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out  
I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smoke you out_

_Seven devils all around me__  
Seven devils in my house  
See they were there when I woke up this morning  
I'll be dead before the day is done_

**_Seven Devils  
Florence + The Machine_**

[]

He felt nothing but the briefest twinge of satisfied relief. The odor of sulfur in the wake of a burning match.

"…just another inconvenient chore." The remark scarcely left his lips as a whisper. Truth be told, he found the aspect of warm life writhing through his fingertips to be quite exciting. Fulfilling, to be exact.

There was no true shame in the discovery. There was only an impersonal shame, he found, in the way the blood melded into his stark white suit; the way it seemed to stain his immaculate disposition. It was unfitting for one such as him.

"Schiffer."

"Aizen-sama…" Illuminated only by a pale sliver of moonlight, a pallid face split the darkness. Green eyes peered absently into mild maroon pools. The other man stepped away, shoes clacking echoingly against the white tile, long fingers fiddling needlessly with diamond cufflinks.

"Dispose of him." His voice was devoid of mirth.

The pale faced youth wordlessly ghosted across the room. There was the sound of rumpled cloth and droplets colliding with solid surface and the muted muffle of a door shutting. He rounded the red pool in calculating, circumscribed steps. Wet iron stung his senses. The high he'd been leisurely clinging to was slowly dissipating, and suddenly he felt obtuse.

Blood staining his crisp, white floors. The blood of a boy. It seemed fascinating that a boy like him should have even existed; a boy that could hardly fathom the complexities of this universe, and the universes in its midst.

He was not angry—no. Anger was an inessential emotion that was displayed by the incompetent. It was an evolutionary fault. It impeded the clarity of one's judgment. He was simply enamored with his own theorems and realizations and the knowledge of their veracity.

This boy had been useful just as he had known. He'd long understood the boy's value. He'd long known his limitations. He'd exacted this murderous algorithm down to the very disposal.

But she had _always_ belonged to him. From the moment that she was manifested, the woman was to be his simply because she was a product of his creation. She existed in his realm; his object of desire.

Life was not a series of mistakes as the neanderthals would so arrogantly presume. It was simply a series of highly erroneous misinterpretations. Each misinterpretation was, it seemed, a terminal setback for the human race. But he? He was a deity of delivery. The perfect being. An apex predator.

"…have you finished, Schiffer?"

"Yes."

Quiet footfalls determined Ulquiorra Schiffer's approach. Aizen began to loosen his tie, his ministrations exceedingly gentle. A mild, seemingly amicable smile crossed his thin lips. One would have assumed him kind and receptive. They both knew it was an airless inquiry—he scarcely ever request confirmation for his commands. One knew that denial of his direction led to an immediate death.

"Where is Gin?" His voice was like silk.

"Dead."

"Pity."

Silence. Aizen gracefully crossed the room and removed a crystal of amber liquid from his recently tended collection. He took a generous sip, breathed it in, and peeled off his jacket and dress shirt. He carelessly threw both items into the quickly thickening blood pool and retrieved a pack of matches from his pants pocket. Ulquiorra crossed the room to open the window.

"Aizen-sama…the funeral."

Liquor was poured upon the bloodied containment. He watched as amber, white, and crimson blended, eyes alight with boredom and flame.

"Of course."


	2. II

_Seems that I have been held in some dreaming state  
A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake  
No kiss, no gentle word, could wake me from this slumber  
Until I realized that it was you who held me under_

_Felt it in my fists  
In my feet  
In the hollows of my eyelids_

_Shaking through my skull, through my spine, and down to my ribs_

_No more dreaming of the dead_

_As if death itself was_

_Undone_

_**Blinding**_

_**Florence + The Machine**_

**[]**

_"Inoue, I'm sorry."_

_She clenched and unclenched her fists, once again succumbing to that inexhaustible disappointment. She was well conditioned to this; well awash these shores; accepting of the idea of getting dragged back to sea over and over again. A painful, indifferent monotony. _

_"Kurosaki-kun," Choking around his name almost hurt. "What are you apologizing for? Really, I-"_

_ He huffed out a dry laugh. "Don't be coy, Inoue. I know what you're thinking."_

_"Do you?"_

_They both recoiled. The barking bitterness in her voice was unexpected, sudden, and scalding. Realizing this, Orihime shook her head and slumped forward, "I'm the one that should be sorry." She started, determined to regain her composure. "She asked me to, but...I just couldn't. It's better this way."_

_"I know." But... "I'll always-"_

_And that was when she kissed him; swallowed a heated 'I'll always love you' between her lips, drowning it with her tongue, shivering as it dropped to the pit of her stomach and evaporated like strong liquor. His hands discovered her waist. Suddenly her legs were entwined around his hard hips and her back was up against the wall._

You don't know what I'm thinking.

_One stroke, neck biting, two strokes, fingernails digging into skin. Kiss and kiss. Anger, euphoria, and tears._

You're not sorry.

_Harder, erratic, deeper._

Love me, love me, love me.

_Release._

_The red flower fell from her hair and toppled lifelessly to the floor. _

**[]**

Downtown Karakura Town was saturated by silence, sunshine, and an influx of patrons who perused the historical shoppes. Mornings were busy, but not erratically so, and business cooled down by the time the daylight began to wax. Across the way was a small flower shop, and next to that, a quietly trafficked dental practice reserved for the elderly. This huddled menagerie of buildings dropped off into a long road...and that road ran through a maze of rice paddies that seemed to meld into the horizon. Beyond that was the countryside.

The young doctor visited the cafe every Sunday morning- directly after purchasing flowers for his wife. Last week it had been irises. This week, red rhododendrons. Unlike most advent coffee goers, he seemed to enjoy the more simplified, vintage comforts; newspapers, tea (sometimes undiluted coffee), and small talk with whoever attentions he had garnered-usually pleasantly smitten women whose ages varied.

But she could never pluck up the courage to speak with him. Though she'd seen him every Sunday for the past three months, she'd accepted him as transparent; a hopelessly beautiful man whose swoon inducing smiles could only invoke a nod. He was a fascination, at best. A spectacle. She enjoyed watching him because time seemed to flow differently around him. She enjoyed him because his presence made the little cafe seem that much warmer. She'd memorized his gestures- from the way he leaned indifferently into his hand, to the way the edges of his translucent brown eyes tightened as he read something displeasing (or at least she assumed...). Perhaps she too was smitten.

This time, however, he did not approach the register to request his usual. He simply floated to his traditional seating arrangement-newspaper neatly folded and face down; flowers situated delicately across from him. He turned in his chair, laid one leg over the other, and smiled gently at her.

Her lack of proper reaction was instantaneous. As she pondered rather nervously about just what exactly made her so interesting, she realized that they were the only two people in the cafe at the moment. Even still, (remarkably so) she wasn't entirely sure who he was speaking to when he finally parted his lips:

"You're going to do something different for me today." A voice like dark, silken honey. Orihime felt her throat tighten. Fingers kneaded into her apron.

"Pardon?"

"Make two cups. The first, black. The second, however you wish. I would like for you to sit with me."

"I..." Orihime swallowed tightly around the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry. I'd like to, but I can't. I'm still working. That's against the rules."

His smile seemed to widen exponentially. "Trust me." He purred, head gently atilt as he observed her. "Or shall I help you?"

"No. I-" She chewed her lip, obviously discombobulated. Orihime couldn't just take a coffee break whenever she so desired. She was the only one available on this shift. If a customer walked in and saw her sitting around she could really end up being in a predicament.

"...well?" His baritone was full of warm expectancy.

She shifted uncomfortably and, finally, released a small sigh. "Alright. But...only for a bit, okay?"

"Of course." He murmured gently.

And so she went, shuffling around behind the counter in an attempt to brew a fresh serving of coffee. It occurred to her that this entire thing was ridiculous. Why would he want to sit with her? Was he going to lecture her about how terrible a barista she was? How embarrassing! She'd only been here for three months. She had taken whatever job she could get her hands on. Feeling discomfited, Orihime sent him a glance, only to realize that he was leaning in the palm of his hand and watching her with those steady eyes. She blushed deeply as she continuously felt around for two clean mugs.

_Well_, she thought heatedly, eventually dousing her own cup of coffee with a decorous amount of cream and sugar,_ If he wants to insult me, he has another thing coming..._

She approached his table (but not without glancing outside), sat the coffee down and, as he requested, slumped quite awkwardly into the chair across from him. Their eyes met.

"Tell me your name."

It was a soft, coaxing request.

"My name?" The woman spluttered.

"Indeed." The doctor smiled a bit, eyes narrowing strangely as he took a sip of his coffee. He seemed to be relishing in his beverage as he caught her gaze again.

"Orihime Inoue." She followed his gesture, albeit clumsily, and winced when she realized she'd made it too sweet. "And yours?"

"Aizen." He rumbled. "Aizen Sousuke."

He drank quietly and closed his eyes...and for the duration of this, Orihime felt awkward. Struggling for conversation, she grasped at straws.

"Are these flowers for your wife? I always see you. I mean- every Sunday, you're always buying flowers. So, I assume that you would be...well, with that ring on your finger, and all."

"I'm widowed."

"Oh- I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. I married young, right before medical school. It was a long time ago. I wear the ring as a momentum."

"I see." Orihime seemed taken aback. "Well, if I may...why do you buy flowers?"

A small smile touched his lips. "I like to place them in my office. I believe it works to put my patients at ease. Also, they have such intricate meanings, flowers."

"Do they?"

"Yes." He nodded, his brows jumping a bit. "For instance, these rhododendrons often stand for a warning of danger- to stay away. However, they were just so beautiful that I simply could not resist." A strange look seemed to come to his eyes, but Orihime disregarded it.

"I agree, the really are beautiful."

A long silence passed, one in which the respective parties attended to their beverages. In this time, she watched him. He really was a rather ravishing man, what with his wavy brunette locks tinged with a copper tint. He couldn't have been any older than thirty...yet, he was entirely too young to be such an established doctor. He must have been highly intelligent. She wondered about him. She wondered what his wife had been like. She wondered if he had any children. She wondered just what sort of doctor he was. Better yet, she wondered why he so profusely wished to engage her company. So she tactlessly asked, while simultaneously checking for patrons,

"Why did you wish for me to sit with you, Dr. Aizen?"

"Because you enjoy my company." He spoke fluidly. There was not one ounce of condescension or flirtatiousness in his voice. "And how could I deny you of something that you so intensely enjoy? Who would I be then, Ms. Orihime?"

Clearly mortified at his presumptuousness, Orihime mouthed stupidly and glued her eyes to the table.

"In any case, I enjoy your company as well. Your curiosity, at best."

She struggled to change the subject, "I-what sort of doctor are you?"

A half smile trickled onto his lips. She was struck by how inviting it made him look. "I deal in affairs of the heart."

"...affairs of the heart?"

He nodded. "Very much so."

Orihime was prepared to interrogate him once more, but an older woman walked in with a stuffy looking dog. She stood so quickly that she nearly knocked the table over.

"I have to go now." She choked out hastily.

"I understand. We will speak again next Sunday. In the meantime...I would like for you to take one of these."

And with that, Aizen drew to his full height, one so intensely overwhelming that Orihime was suddenly aware of how small she was. A rich cologne collided with her senses- a sensual pressure- and her knees quivered dangerously as she dared to inhale. So close were their proximities that were she to turn her head she would risk grazing him. His long fingers reached for a lone, crimson rhododendron...and he dipped a bit to place it in the confines of her strawberry blonde hair.

Aizen then thumbed her chin, just tantalizingly short of her lower lip.

"What are you doing to me?" Against her will, Orihime felt her eyes flutter shut.

"Have a wonderful afternoon, Ms. Orihime."

His voice was a low rumble swept up by the wind. And when she opened her eyes once more, he was gone.

**[]**

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews guys. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time, deuces.


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